The Honourable Schoolboy

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Apparently, many people read John Le Carré’s spy novels for a glimpse at what the world of international espionage is really like; in other words, they read them like a kind of journalism about the shady world of Intelligence Services. And there certainly is something to it – we’ve grown used to a more realistic perspective on secret services, but we can still imagine what it must have been like to read a novel like The Spy Who Came In from the Cold for someone whose idea of spy thrillers were Ian Fleming’s James Bond novels. Le Carré profoundly debunked the myths about the spy trade, showing it to be a world not of elegant womanizers lounging in luxurious surroundings, but of middle-aged men holding bureaucratic meetings in dull offices, not of noble deeds and lofty aims but of petty infighting and political maneuvering. The novels of Le Carré were filled with detailed descriptions and precise observations, and had authenticity written all over them and thoroughly destroyed any conception of glamour clinging to the spy profession – today, nobody would consider a James Bond novel anything but fantasy. This, even if it comes late in the novel, after its plot and its protagonists have taken many turns about and about, constitutes something like the motto for The Honourable Schoolboy. Indeed the whole novel could be taken as a variation on the poem those lines comes from, Donne’s Satire III, to the point where it feels that one might place both works next to each other and draw in the correspondences. Correspondence is part of the novel’s theme, too, as it is set not just in Asia but has London as a major setting too, and the events in both spheres, while never shown to result from each other immediately, do influence each other in oblique ways that had me think more than once of the Renaissance alchemy concept of correspondence, where things not directly connected still work upon each other by way of mystic similarities. Except, of course, that there is nothing mystical at place here, but the driving forces are mostly political in nature – but not really any less obscure for that.

Elizabeth Worthington, alias Lizzie, alias Lizzie Ricardo, alias Liese Worth – first, common-law wife of Tiny Ricardo; then, mistress of Drake Ko I suppose Smiley just never figured Jerry that far gone to try to escape while being escorted out of the country.The second volume in le Carre's fabled Karla spy trilogy, The Honourable Schoolboy is a significant departure from the five Smiley books leading up to it. It's the longest of all the Smiley novels, and the only one where the action takes place outside of Europe. Positively, the book vividly describes the expat life in early Seventies in HK, Laos, Cambodia, Thailand etc. It takes a while to overcome the inherent biases, but when one moves beyond what was an acceptable behaviour of so called heroes of the time, the book provides a good narration of interplay between people of various races then and there. Here are the bad things: I found the characters are rather flat, the plot and the war among spies slow paced and uninteresting. In the end I don't care what might happen to any of those characters. So it's a disappointed 2 stars.

A nice setpiece about Smiley reading and thinking about his former boss, Control, who died in the course of the previous book: Everything I had heard about the source material suggests joy and wonder would await and, I’m pleased to report, that’s exactly what I have found so far. What else? Well, there is romance in 'Schoolboy' (Westerby wears his heart-on-his-sleeve), sadness and sexuality (Lizzie Worthington) there is weariness and cynicism (Smiley, Ann); issues of loyalty (a fiendish little Peter Lorre-like character named 'Fawn') and family (Drake & Nelson Ko, two mysterious Chinese brothers); there are smarmy colleagues and 'old boys' betraying each other. There is all manner of foiled schemes and collapsed lives; abandoned hopes and tainted ideologies. So this is far more than mere 'espionage'. It's a rummage-bin of motley, worn-out, subjects-of-the-Queen, all struggling with agonizing inner concerns--their duties, obligations, and lusts. And they're set off against a caustic, dispiriting, new frontier of money, injustice, and murder. Thus, it's a timely novel by any measure.I chose the secret road because it seemed to lead straightest and furthest toward my country's goal. The enemy in those days was someone we could point at and read about in the papers. Today, all I know is that I have learned to interpret the whole of life in terms of conspiracy. The main character is not George Smiley (although he is present in much of the novel) but Jerry Westerby, one of the Occasionals as they are referred to - foreign correspondents who do a little spying on the side. As such, it is altogether more human than either Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy or Smiley's People - the reader is engaged on an emotional level even though it is perhaps the most complex of the three books in terms of plot. In 1985 I began writing my first novel. I had never written before and had no idea what I was doing. About the same time I read The Little Drummer Girl , and when I was finished I immediately read it again, something I had never done before and haven’t done since. I was smitten with Charlie, the heroine, and I was enthralled by the supporting cast. I began to see that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict had two sides. The story’s plots and subplots were crafted by a genius. The suspense was so smart, so clever. Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is a tough act to follow, but I must admit I was expecting more. At first, I thought that’s exactly what I was getting but then the mind-numbing second third happened and I was lost in a way I never was in Tinker Tailor. I still don’t have a clear understanding of what happened—in the book or with my interest in it.